Stop lighting yourself on fire to keep them warm,
you will not become radiant.
There will be nothing left of you but charcoal;
a bitter aftertaste lingering before they spit you out.
The aimless musings of a career-frustrated, wine-guzzling 41 year-old single Mum.
Something to pick, savour, or chew over. Some windfalls.
Poems From The Pirate In My Soul
Author, Creator, Artist, Student of Life